


The Guy in a Red Hoodie

by orphan_account



Category: Homestuck
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-17
Updated: 2015-06-17
Packaged: 2018-04-04 21:28:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,369
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4153578
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How real life goes, kids. Start taking notes. Sigh.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Guy in a Red Hoodie

You're glad you live three minutes away from work.

And by foot, too, to add to the perk.

You left Dad's place three years ago. At first, it was because he lived far away from the college you wished to attend, which is in the city while he lives in the countryside. Your Nanna lived nearer, so you were invited to stay at her place, in the suburbs. You did so and it went rather well for the first two months. The lady could cook up a storm though, and if you had already been annoyed with Dad's habit, you actually grew fatter while you stayed at her place. It was nice, not having to pay for all of your living expenses, but you quickly realized it was actually time for you to leave after the first year. She would always want to know each slight detail of your life and _really, Nanna, it's all rather none of your business._

You wanted your freedom. You were ready for it.

So you moved in with your best bro, Dave.

You met him at school. That's all there is to say on the matter. You guys didn't exactly click at first. But you were eventually forced into a team for some project and totally nailed it. There was a chemistry there that you hadn't even been aware of until you got your grade and just beamed at each other.

The guy's weird. He keeps shades on. He says he actually sees too brightly now, when he removes them, since he's had them on for so long. But he does look cool and stoic with the damn pair on. So you've actually grown used to that.

You've lived together for two years now. It's going rather well. You do bug each other for stuff like the dishes or buying soap of toilet paper.

But never shaving cream.

Oddly enough, Dad provides you with that.

Right now though, it's not soap or toilet paper or the dishes that are an issue.

'Dave! Would you happen to have spotted my cap? I've misplaced it...' you said as you look behind every doorknob you can find.

You've got a bad habit of hanging it on doorknobs and then forgetting which one it's on.

'Dude. Right here,' you hear from his room.

'Oh, right!'

You'd barely been back yesterday when you joined him in a game of Tony Hawk Pro Skater in multiplayer mode on his old PS1. So you still had your uniform on and probably left your cap there.

He knows the game by heart for secretly playing it all of his childhood. Says he's stolen the console from his bro when he left the family house. You're not sure you believe him, but you've never voiced your doubt. Because it doesn't matter. You just play with him because since he had to do it secretly all of the time, he's never been able to play as a duo, or get through the game himself.

'Well, thanks! Have a nice evening!' you chirp.

He shrugs.

You don't even have to see it to know he does. But it still puts a smile on your lips as you shut the door behind you.

* * *

Work is as usual. You are cheerful, the customers are mostly sweet. Except some who are so hungry they just snap their order for you to type into the screen of your cash register. Your colleagues chat a little more together than they should, but you're not the boss of them, so you say nothing.

Besides, it's not a particularly busy night.

Not until a group of trolls come in towards closing time, looking up at the menu above your heads. Your colleagues aren't dimwits though, so they both attend their own cash registers to help this be over with faster.

You eye the group, trying to figure out how many they are. You count approximately seven or such. But you can't be sure, or suddenly can't be bothered to be sure, because your attention has been intercepted by one of them.

A troll with tiny little horns on the top of somewhat unruly black hair. He looks annoyed, but for some reason, it doesn't change the fact that... well, really, that he's caught your eye. He's wearing a bright red hoodie under a grey jacket and has his hands stubbornly shoved in his pockets as a girl with a blue hat that weirdly makes her look like a cat pulls on his arm and deplores that they don't serve fish, here.

You almost giggle out loud to yourself. No indeed. You specialize in chicken, here.

One of your colleagues greets the group.

This seems to move them along. Three of the trolls, who seem ready to order, move along to each a cashier. As you start taking your own customer - a girl with long hair and an eye patch--really, the diversity in the city is amazing, there are all sorts of people--that has a bossy sort of tone and voice, yet somehow has a friendly exchange with you - you notice that next in line is the guy with the stubby horns.

The colleague to your left won't take another customer. She needs to start preparing the trays, putting the coleslaw and drinks on them. But the one to your right... she's really a fast worker. She always takes orders super efficiently.

If you want to have the next guy, you'll have to be quicker than her, while staying friendly.

'Hi.' She looks at you with a slight smile while saying this first word, then eyes the menu again and keeps her eye on it as she orders. 'So I'd like the chicken nuggets-- are we allowed to have those?'

You quickly reassure her that it is absolutely in your power to provide her with chicken nuggets. That they aren't exclusively for kids. You also ask her if she is ordering takeout, or for here.

Takeout. Dammit. Means the whole group is leaving. Well, whatever aha.

The rest of the order is quick. She knows what she wants. And pays cash, whereas the kitty-like girl ordering to the colleague to you right is paying debit.

You hand in the change and ask her to wait at the end of the counter to receive her order. Which will be the 888th one. She seems to find this highly amusing and goes off to brag to her other friend who has finished ordering already.

Then, you have your first eye contact with the troll in the red hoodie.

He gets closer and you can't help but stare and take his appearance in.

His features are sharp, and so are the teeth he is showing through a slight smile aimed at you. His lips are thin, but their shape is still endearing. There are dark circles beneath his eyes that just accentuate how yellow his scleras are. In short, he is gorgeous. He is your type. And he is standing there in front of you, almost surreal.

Your professionalism kicks back in quickly enough though, thanks to your four years of experience at this particular restaurant.

The smile you show him is not the wide toothed one you usually give everyone. Not that you don't usually mean those.

But this one is more shy. More... fond.

'How are you doing today?' you nearly chirp.

 _Yes_ , this _is_ professional. You sometimes inquire about the mental health of your customers. It's only polite.

'I'm good, thank you. How about you?' He is all politeness and is not taking his eyes off you. You mean, you aren't either, but it's your job to try and keep a steady eye contact with your customers. This though... this feels different from the usual. He isn't even glancing at the menu, or checking if he has his cards or money or anything. It all feels very personal.

 _My day has suddenly gotten so much better_ , you don't say.

'I'm good,' you nod, realizing you couldn't use different words than his, because your mind is drifting. 'So, it was to go, right?' you go on, remembering that his buddies had ordered takeout.

'Yeah,' the guy says. This is the only moment he looks down, you realize. You aren't sure at what. But it gives you an excuse to look at your screen and open the menu in the takeout option. 'I'll just have the chicken leg,' he says.

You hum. 'Do you need a drink with that? Or will you be fine without it?'

He does want one.

'Alright, and how about your coleslaw?'

'I'll have it traditional, thanks,' he says. Just like his friend before, he knows what he wants. But he's letting you ask the questions he is aware you'll ask.

And you're just staring at each other as much as you can between the button pressing. You can feel he isn't taking his eyes off you when you look down though.

You're loving it. Your fingers are even shaking slightly, as you wonder if there could be a way for you to slip your phone number on his bill or something. Or just flat out asking for his. Would there be a smooth way of doing so before your exchange is complete?

'Need utensils?' you hear yourself ask. 'Your friends didn't seem to need them?'

'Nah, you're right,' he smiles again, showing you those oh-so-interesting teeth of his. It makes your own smile broaden a bit as your mood lifts with every second that passes.

'Alright then! Did you need anything else with this?' you ask.

The last question. He seems to hesitate. But he finally declines. And you tell him the price he's going to have to pay as he waves his card in the air, informing you he'll pay with debit.

As he does so, you reach for a cup from under the counter. In the corner of your eye, you see him look up from the terminal machine and follow your movement. You deliberately avoid looking at him, because you're glad his eyes are still locked on you. But he looks back down and proceeds to pay.

Then, you give him his receipt, the number he'll have to listen to, and his cup. You tell him he can fill it over there at the soda fountain while he waits. And as he leaves, he sorta keeps his head turned towards you and you just stare one at another for another couple of seconds.

Before you look back in front of you with a cheerful 'Hello!'

* * *

Once the group has all ordered, one of your colleagues is free to leave, her shift pulling to an end.

All of the group of trolls is waiting at the end of the counter and you also don't have any new customers to attend to, so you help dispatch the boxes to them.

As you approach to give some of them their meals, you notice they have taken extra gravy cups.

They really shouldn't, and it's not allowed, but...

You go to the back, in the kitchen, and take two lids. Then, when the next box is ready, you bring it to- ah, yes, just your luck tonight. The boy in the red hoodie. You ask him if he'd like a bag to put his stuff in, as his friends have taken some. But he says he doesn't need one, thanks. You smile at him, but then, instead of leaving as you'd usually do, you turn to his friends.

'I see you guys have taken extra gravy. You really... aren't supposed to, but...'

You pop out the extra lids you took for them.

 _But your friend is really cute_.

'But you're all very nice so it'll be okay for this once.'

Aaah dammit. At least they all smile and thank you as you close the cups for them and hide them in their bags so your colleague doesn't realize you are helping customers sneak out cups out of clear favoritism.

And your heart is beating so fast, as you risk a glance at _him_ again. And he's smiling at you, and thanks you, even if he didn't steal extra anything.

Then you go back to your post, in front of your cash register. You've got some receipts to sort and put in your drawer, so you do. That busies you until the group seem ready to leave. You make sure you look as them as they do, wishing them all a good night. And the guy leaves last, throwing you a last glance before he leaves.

And really, truly, he shouldn't have. Because that's when you completely melt.

You let out an audible sigh, and call for your colleague in a semi-whisper.

She giggles at you.

'He was looking at you a whole awful lot, wasn't he?' she teases.

And you finally blush.

'I knooooow!!!' you almost squeal. You feel like an idiot. You are shaking. You are already regretting not bluntly flirting or at least putting a message on his bill or something. 'I was staring at him too! Wasn't he gorgeous? I'm such a nitwit! Wait until I tell you everything I wanted to happen...'

And you do. You tell her of your plot to maybe tell them all that you thought he was cute, thus the reason why you gave them lids for gravy. She admits she couldn't care less about the gravy.

But you knew you would have combusted on the spot, so you didn't say anything. You didn't want to make too much of a fool of yourself. What if he had someone already? What if he wasn't into guys at all?

Ach, fuck it, you would have just become friends with that guy if it meant getting to know him.

'Oh shit, do you think I just reminded him of someone? What if he thought I was someone he knew? And there I was panicking my life away because of how attractive and nice I thought he was!'

She laughs at you again. 'No, John, that isn't how he was looking at you.'

And you realize some things really are better left unknown. Because this encounter will haunt you for a long time.


End file.
